


Nous Vous Protégeons

by elumish



Series: Werewolves 101 [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, F/M, Gen, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5095940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elumish/pseuds/elumish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I try to get out alone, I will die.”</p><p>She says it matter-of-factly, the way Isaac says “I had some problems at home” or Scott says “I don’t get along with my dad,” and that’s how Stiles knows she means it. And she’s scared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set a few years before HMMARCW, during their junior year of high school.

The knock sends Stiles jolting out of bed, knife clutched in his hand as he looks around to figure out what’s going on. That’s not his dad’s knock, and it didn’t sound like it came from the door, so he goes to the window, jerking it open so he can peer out.

And then flinch back, because Allison Agazzi is perched on the part of the roof just below his window, duffel bag slung diagonal across her chest. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he demands, keeping his voice down because his dad is home and that is not a conversation he wants to have.

“I need help.” Her voice is jarringly loud, and he gestures for her to climb inside so she doesn’t wake the whole damn neighborhood.

Once she’s in, he looks around outside to make sure there isn’t anyone else wanting to invade his bedroom, then shoves the window closed and turns to look at her. “Then why aren’t you at your boyfriend’s window?”

She shoots him a look he doesn’t understand, harsh on her face, and that’s not a good sign. Because it’s the look Stiles sees in the mirror sometimes, and that is not something he would want for anyone. “Because you’re the closest thing we have to a legitimate Hunter in the town.”

Oh, fuck, so this is a werewolf thing. Though when isn’t it a werewolf thing. And anyway, “What do you mean?”

“You killed the rogue, didn’t you?” She says it like she already knows the answer, though if she’s asking, it means that she does. “Look, I need your help, and there’s no one else I can go to.”

Great. This is just what he needs at—he looks at the clock—two fifty-seven in the morning. So he sits down on the side of his bed and gestures for her to sit in his chair. Which still has the slash marks from Scott from like a year ago, and wow, he needs a new chair. “What do you need?”

“I’m supposed to kill Scott.”

Stiles has the knife out again before he even thinks about it, and wow, this year has trained him to have some fucked up habits, because he never used to even like knives that much. “I killed the rogue to save Scott, not because he was a werewolf, so if you’re looking for an accomplice, that’s not—”

“No, no, that’s not what I want.” She doesn’t look particularly fazed by the knife in his hand, which is also not a particularly good sign. “No, I want out.”

“Out of…?”

“The HFU.”

Fuck. It is too early for this shit. The HFU is the biggest anti-werewolf terrorist organization in the country, with affiliates in every state, and they were responsible for most of the deadliest domestic attacks in the last decade. Including the Hale attack, which was in Beacon Hills. The building is still there, or at least what’s left, and Stiles goes with his dad every year to pay his respects.

So the fact that Allison is even saying that name is bad. “Are you saying you’re—”

“HFU?” She nods. “Kind of. It’s complicated. My family is—my family has been HFU literally since the beginning.”

“That’s not—” The founding family of the HFU was the Argents, with the Calaveras joining almost immediately after. “You’re not going by your real name.”

“No.” Something close to a smile crosses her face, even though he hasn’t put the knife away yet. “I haven’t in years.”

This is becoming increasingly worrying. “What’s your name?”

Something in her expression twists. “Allison Argent.”

“Motherfucker.” He finds himself on his feet without consciously deciding to go there. “Daughter or cousin?”

She doesn’t feign ignorance. “Niece, actually. But what she did—none of us support it. Well, my dad and I don’t. My grandfather’s…a little bit of a psychopath, actually.”

“Your grandfather Gerard Argent, head of the HFU?”

“Yeah, that grandfather.” She holds up her hands like she’s trying to show she’s unarmed. Not that that means a whole hell of a lot, especially if she’s really HFU. “Look, I’m at the year mark in my induction, and I’m supposed to kill a werewolf. I’ve gotten orders to kill Scott, and even if I didn’t, I would have to kill Isaac, and that’s—I can’t. I don’t want to kill my friends.”

“Then why get in in the first place? You had to know what was coming.”

“When I got in, there was a rogue running around Beacon Hills, and no reason why that wouldn’t be my assignment. I want to be a Hunter. Just not like this.”

It takes him another few seconds, and then he puts the knife down. She sounds genuine, and even if she didn’t, he doesn’t know if he can kill another human. And if he can’t, he shouldn’t have a knife, because she’ll just take it away from him and use it against him. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want your help getting out. I don’t know what my dad will do when I try to get out, but I know the rest of the HFU will go after me with no holds barred.”

“And…?”

“And I’m hoping you’ll put in a good word for me with Scott and your father.”

That makes no sense. “Scott would literally give you the moon if you asked. And if it weren’t physically impossible. Not that the second part would stop him from trying. So I don’t think you need me to ask.”

That almost-smile crosses her face again. “Maybe I’m just trying to convince you, then, because we all know Scott doesn’t cross you on things that matter. If you say no, there’s no guarantee he’ll say yes. And I need help. If I try to get out alone, I will die.”

She says it matter-of-factly, the way Isaac says “I had some problems at home” or Scott says “I don’t get along with my dad,” and that’s how Stiles knows she means it. And she’s scared.

“Okay.” He already has half-formed plans in mind, ways to get her out, to keep her safe. But they’re going to need to wait. “I’m assuming you can’t go back home tonight, or you wouldn’t have a bag.”

Allison nods. “I’d rather not, though if you can’t have me stay, I understand.”

“No, you can stay. We have a guest room where you can crash, and once we talk to my dad, he’ll be fine with it. What about your safety for during the day? Is anyone going to come after you before we have a chance to get you somewhere safe?”

“I told my dad I was going to be at Lydia’s for the next couple of days to help her deal with her parents’ mess of a marriage, so I have at least two days before he comes looking. And they wouldn’t do anything in public, not in this town; it’s too risky for them. So I should be okay, at least right now.” She pulls herself up a little bit straighter. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

He levers himself up, suddenly exhausted. “Don’t thank me yet; we haven’t gotten you out. Come on, I’ll show you were you can crash.” And then he’ll start planning, because there’s no way in hell he’s getting back to sleep.

\--

His dad knocks on his door at six-thirty then opens it without waiting for him to respond, and from the look on his face, this is already going to be an awful day. Not that he really thought that it would go any different. “Why is Scott’s girlfriend doing push-ups in front of our TV?”

Oh, Christ. Stiles stands, resisting the urge to brain himself on his desk, and stretches, because ow, he’s been sitting for too long. “Will you accept it if I say I need to talk to Scott first?”

His dad’s eyes narrow. “Did she cheat on Scott with you?”

“What? No.”

“Then no.”

Ugh. “She’s, uh, she’s in trouble, and she came to me—to us—for help.”

“And when did she show up?”

“A few hours ago.”

He grimaces. “I’m going to need to have a chat with your friends about normal visiting hours.  What does she need help with?”

Stiles starts gathering up his stuff for school so he has something to do with his hands and so his dad can’t see his face. “Look, I really need to talk to Scott about this first. I don’t—it’s complicated. And I’m not trying to hide things from you, I promise, I just don’t know exactly what I’m going to be telling you until I talk to Scott.”

“So it’s a werewolf thing.”

Stiles sighs, making himself look up at his dad. And he doesn’t look disappointed, exactly, but there’s that thing that’s there, that thing that’s always there when it’s about werewolves, and he hates that look on his dad’s face. “Yeah, it’s a werewolf thing. But it’s also an Allison thing, so even if it wasn’t a werewolf thing—”

“It would be a Scott thing,” his dad finishes, and he sounds resigned. “One day, I’m going to figure out how to keep you safe from this mess you’ve found yourself in.”

And that’s the other part of the look on his dad’s face, the part he might even hate more. “Whatever happens to me, you know it’s not your fault, right?”

“You’re my son.” And then he turns and walks away, but Stiles supposes that really is all that he needs to say.

Stiles grabs all of his stuff, including the almost forty pages of stuff he has printed out about the HFU and about leaving hate groups, and heads down the stairs to find Allison. Who is, yep, still doing push-ups in their living room.

“Trying to prove a point?” She glances up at him, then switches to one-arm push-ups. Which, yeah, is totally just to prove a point, and point taken. “Yes, yes, you’re Superwoman, you could kick my ass, no need to wave it in my face.”

Now she stops and gets up, smirking at him. She looks a little sweaty but otherwise totally fine and not like she was just moving her entire body-weight with one hand. Which is harder than it looks, which Stiles knows from his one attempt when he was trying to get in shape for lacrosse. Which didn’t happen. “What did you tell your dad?”

“That I needed to talk to Scott first. Which I do. And then, whatever Scott says, I have some things to go over with you.”

She nods. “Yeah, okay. I can tell you basically anything you need to know about the HFU.”

“That, too, but it’s also about how you’re going to get out. But we can talk about it later. For right now, pancakes!”

\--

Scott looks pissed.

It’s probably more to the point to say Scott is pissed, though they’re kind of one in the same, because Scott’s expressions show every nuance of his thoughts. It’s the good part about him but also the part that makes him really damn vulnerable.

“Want to tell me why you were driving my girlfriend to school today?”

Stiles drops his head down on his steering wheel, then gestures for Allison to get out of the car. “We need to talk. Up for skipping Chemistry?”

They camp out in one of the empty classrooms, and Allison goes to class because this will not be a productive conversation if she’s there. Because Scott basically forgets how to function as a normal person when she’s there, and Stiles really needs him to be functional right now.

“So,” Scott starts after losing a one-sided staring contest with Stiles—Stiles knows, he always knows, “what’s going on?”

“Allison is involved in the HFU.”

Scott shoots to his feet like he’s about to go try to try and find her right now, which no, not happening right now. “What did they do to her?”

Stiles shakes his head. “That’s not it. She is _in_ the HFU.” Scott sinks back down into his chair, looking devastated. “She wants out, but she’s going to need help. Our help. My dad's, too. But we're--I need to know if you're up to this."

Scott's expression shifts towards affronted. "Why wouldn't I be? I love her."

"Because you're going to find out things you don't want to about her. Because she's a year into her induction, and she's Allison Argent, and her aunt killed the Hale family."

Scott flinches. "Oh, fuck."

Oh fuck is right. "Look, it seems like she wants to do the right thing, and I never thought I would be the one defending Allison to you, but if she's going to get out alive, she's going to need help. And if you can't do it, I will." He didn't know he had decided that until just now, but it's true. He won't let Allison die to save Scott, even if she is an Argent.

Scott stares at him for a few second, then sighs. "It's Allison."

"Yeah, it is." And that's it.

\--

They find her after class gets out—it’s not worth it for them to go to class halfway through because Harris is more likely to give both of them detention if he remembers they exist—and then Scott splits off with her because they’re in different math classes. Which is good, because he’ll have a chance to go through what they need to deal with without either of them around.

Getting people out of hate groups, especially violent hate groups, is complicated, and it’s going to be made worse by the fact that she isn’t eighteen yet. She can’t sign up for a bank account without a guardian; she might not even have access to her own money. And a member of the group lives in the town and is her guardian, which makes it even worse.

And the HFU is particularly insular, even for hate groups, which means that they’re really not going to want someone who’s been through a full year of initiation and grew up in the founding family leaving, especially not with all of the information she probably has.

The other problem is that he doesn’t know where she’s going to be able to go. She might be able to become emancipated, especially with the help of his dad and with the argument that she’s leaving her father, but what then? He doesn’t know what happened to her mother, but she’s not in the picture, and who does that leave? Her grandfather’s the head of the HFU, her aunt’s in jail, and probably everybody connected to her family is in HFU.

His dad will probably take her in, though the money issue would become a problem pretty fast. Not that that would stop him, and not even that it should, but it still is a problem. And Scott would probably love to take her in, but they’re already busy trying to help Isaac, and Stiles knows Melissa’s struggling with that.

What that means, then, is that he’s going to have to talk to his dad. So right before lunch, he heads out to an isolated corner of the school and calls his dad. He picks up on the first ring. “You ready to tell me what’s going on?”

“Making use of caller ID, are you?”

“Stiles.”

Stiles sighs. “Right, right, yeah. This isn’t a conversation we should have over the phone, so after lacrosse Scott and Allison are coming over, and we all need to talk.”

“Is this going to put you in danger?”

Yeah, but that’s another thing Stiles doesn’t want to say over the phone. “See you after school.”

“Five-thirty, and then I want to know what’s going on.”

“Right-o, daddy-o.” And then he hangs up before his dad can respond to that moment of absolute nonsense.

By the time five-thirty rolls around, Scott is twitchy and Stiles feels ready to vibrate out of his skin, though Allison still looks as calm as ever. Maybe that’s something they teach in the HFU, and somehow that feels less funny than it would have before.

As soon as his dad walks in, Scott shots to his feet, then sits back down, then stands again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sheriff. Mr. Stilinski. Hi.”

His dad shoots Scott an amused look, dropping his bag down in the corner and taking the empty seat at the table across from Allison. “This isn’t prom and you’re not Stiles’s date, so calm down.” He looks at Allison. “Ms. Agazzi, what can I do for you?”

Allison’s lips twitch. “That’s a more complicated question than you might think. But the first thing is that I am coming to you as an inductee of the HFU, just before my official induction, seeking help to leave the organization.”

His dad opens his mouth, then stops and just stares for a few seconds. And then that same almost-disappointed look crosses his face and he slumps forward onto his elbows, rubbing his face with his hands. He looks old. “Aw, hell. This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“No, sir.” Now, while his dad can’t see, her face tightens. “While I haven’t yet committed any crimes, I know that there are laws regarding hate groups, and so I’ll submit to persecution if necessary.”

“I’m not going there right now.” He looks up at her, and now his Sheriff face is on. “I’ll need a full rundown of what’s happened during however long you’ve been doing work for the HFU, but unless you’ve done something particularly egregious, there will likely be a good argument to keep you from being charged do to the circumstances. Which is the first thing you’re going to need to explain to me.”

“The circumstance?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

She sighs. “First, then, if you want the circumstances, my name isn’t Allison Agazzi. Well, it is, but it wasn’t originally; we just couldn’t feasibly move to Beacon Hills with our original names.”

“Which were?”

“Argent.”

His dad takes that in stride. “Okay. Okay, that might be a problem.”

“Niece,” Stiles puts in, mostly because he can’t not-talk for this long, “not daughter.”

“I figured that, as Kate Argent has no children and one brother named Chris, which is your dad’s name, isn’t it? Where did the Agazzi come from?”

“My mom.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and starts braiding it, which looks very practical until Stiles sees her hands shaking. She’s scared and trying to hide it. He knows the feeling. “Victoria Agazzi, before she married my dad.”

His dad pulls out a pad of paper and starts writing. “Why come back to Beacon Hills?”

She finishes the braid, then undoes it and starts again, pulling it tighter. “It was more ‘come’ than ‘back’; I had only been here once before when I was maybe two or three, and my dad hadn’t been here since before the trial. And it was because were weren’t supposed to be any werewolves here. And then the rogue showed up and that all went out the window.”

“So you and your dad came to get away from the HFU?”

She laughs, but it’s not a good sound, and Stiles sees Scott put his hand on her back, just resting it there. She doesn’t react to that, but Stiles has been there. Sometimes even if you can feel something, you can’t do anything about it. “Nothing that good. No, we came so I could train without my dad being distracted. They want me...trained.”

There’s something about how she says that, and his dad must notice it too, because he asks, “How important are you to the organization?”

Now Allison actually flinches, and one hand closes around the base of the chair, tight, knuckles pale. “I can give you whatever information you need, if that’s what you mean.”

“It wasn’t.” His dad puts down the pad and looks at her. “I want to know how hard they’re going to fight to keep you.”

“They’re—” Her grip on the chair tightens. “Gerard might be nominally in charge right now, but the HFU is supposed to be led by a woman. A matriarch. It was Kate, but now that she’s in jail it’s the head of the Calaveras. But once I’m through—once I would be through, if I was going through with it—it would be me. So for how hard they’re going to fight—if they can’t have me, they’re going to kill me.”


	2. Chapter 2

His dad gets in touch with the FBI the next day in regards to a potential HFU defector, and they say they’ll get back to him. Which could be a good sign or could be a bad one, and Stiles doesn’t know because his dad doesn’t. But that’s not the biggest problem, not really. The biggest problem is that the excuse of her being at Lydia’s house is going to run out soon, and then the cat’ll be out of the bag and they’ll all be screwed.

Which is not something Stiles is looking forward to.

She stays the night at his house, crashing in the guest bedroom again while Scott falls asleep half on top of Stiles’s bed and Stiles sits curled up against the headboard and tries to figure out what the hell they’re going to do with her. Because it would be so easy for this to go to hell, and there’s only so much more the town can take.

He already sleeps with a knife under his pillow some nights. The rest of the town doesn’t need to do that, too.

And neither does Scott, which is why Stiles will do what needs to be done and let Scott be the one to sleep.

\--

Stiles stops Allison before she gets into the car for him to drive her and Scott to school to tell her, “Once you get out, we’re going to need to make sure you’re not alone when you’re going to be anywhere that someone from the HFU can get to you. So basically anywhere other than school.”

Allison makes a face. “That’s…not necessarily true.”

Oh, fuck. “Do you mean there’s someone from the HFU at school? Because I really don’t—that’s basically the last thing I want to deal with. How do I not know that? How do we not know that?”

She shoves her hair over one shoulder, smiling at Scott, who’s in the car. Listening, of course, but probably pretending not to, because he keeps pretending he’s not a werewolf. Necessary, given that he hasn’t actually registered with the school and only a half-dozen people there actually know what he is, but kind of ridiculous right now. “Because I don’t know who they are. But Hunters—Federation Hunters—don’t move places alone. Chances are, they wouldn’t put me in a school by myself.”

That’s fucking fantastic. That’s just—he really can’t deal with knowing that, not right now. Because he just went from thinking the HFU hadn’t been in Beacon Hills since Kate Argent’s trial to knowing the Argents have been in the town for a year. Anything more—he really just doesn’t want to know, except knowledge is power and he needs to be as strong as possible.

“Okay, school too, then. Between Scott and Isaac and I, we should be able to cover you everywhere that isn’t the bathroom and the locker room. We’ll get Lydia for that.”

“Lydia?”

“She knows…enough. It’s complicated, but she’ll help.” He looks at the time on his phone. “Oh, fuck. Okay, we need to go.”

They get to school two minutes before the bell, and there isn’t time to worry about who the HFU person is because it’s chemistry with Harris and he’s pissed. More pissed than usual. Which is just Stiles’s luck. So he actually keeps his mouth shut so he doesn’t get detention, because for once he really does not have the time to sit there with fucking Mr. Harris staring at the awful ticking clock.

Scott and Allison do their usual octopus-finding-its-mate routine while Stiles bashes his head against a locker because, really, must they do this now? It’s like Harry with Hermione and Ron in book seven, except there is no ginger, and they do this every fucking time they are away for more than an hour at a time. Except this time it really is like book seven, with Voldemort almost at the gate, and he’s coming after Allison.

And wow, that’s a really not-good analogy, because book seven ends with piles of bodies and too many orphans.

“That’s revolting.” Stiles jerks out of his thoughts to look at Lydia, who is, holy shit, standing next to him. Talking to him. “Allison. Darling. We need to talk.”

Allison pulls away from Scott, face flushed and hair mussed even though Scott was nowhere near her hair, and how the fuck does that even happen, to blink at her. “What?”

Lydia reaches out and links her arm with Allison, pulling her away from Scott, who looks like he has no idea what just happened. Which happens a lot with Lydia. “Want to tell me why you’re dad called my house looking for you?”

Allison goes rigid, starting to pull away, but Lydia tightens her grip. She’s a surprisingly strong person when she puts her mind to it. “What did you tell him?”

“That you crashed after I dragged you out shopping. Care to explain why I lied to Daddy-o?”

That’s a terrifying way to think of Chris Argent. But Allison just sighs. “Can I tell you after school?”

Lydia’s eyes narrow, and fuck, she’s figured something out. “You don’t want to talk about it now, which means I wasn’t just covering for you getting handsy with furry over there and not wanting your dad to find out. So yeah, fine, we can wait until school’s done, but then I want everything, and not just that bullshit you all insisted on feeding me when Jackson was off trying to get himself turned into werewolf.”

They probably will need her, so Stiles nods. “After school.”

She pats him on the shoulder, shoots him an absolutely terrifying—and really attractive—smile and heads off to her next class. Which is what they should all be doing.

\--

After lacrosse, they all pile into Stiles’s Jeep—minus Lydia, who refuses to get near it on account of it being a death trap which, to be fair, is not too far from the truth—and head to his house. His dad is coming home from work at a reasonable time again, but that’s still a few hours away, so he’ll just have to entertain them. Which is his skill set. Sort of.

“So.” Lydia drums her perfect nails on his table. “Allison is HFU.” When they all stare at her, she smiles. “I’m done playing dumb, and it’s been obvious that there’s something up for months. Between that weapons training and your dad’s gun fetish, it got me to paramilitary group, and then your dad’s freak-out and then subsequent pretending that Scott isn’t a werewolf and the fact that it took you like a month to start responding to your own last name, HFU was pretty much the best bet. And given that you’re probably not recruiting half of our home pack to join your little hate group, I’m guessing you want out. Am I close?”

And this is why Stiles loves her.

Allison lets out a choked laugh. “Yeah, you’re close.”

“Argent, then, or did you have another reason for changing your last name right before coming to Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah.” Allison shakes her head. “How long have you known?”

Lydia taps her nails again. “It was mostly supposition until right now. I figured, as long as you weren’t trying to kill anyone, it wasn’t really my problem.” She looks at Stiles. “I assume you have a way to get her out.”

Her faith in him is kind of amazing, if not a bit misguided. “I’m working on it. The HFU is notoriously hard to get out of, and really hate groups are in general. With no potential guardian disconnected from the HFU and with Allison still being a minor, it’s hard. The fact that she’s not super radicalized is helpful, and there are people who can help her with the mental getting-out process like ExitUSA, but…if she is looking into emancipation, which is basically the only option unless she gets her father on board, there’s going to be a gap of time when she’s still in her father’s guardianship while actively trying to get out. And even once that time is passed, she’s still going to be in danger. And I’m not sure how that’s going to work out.”

“I’m right here, you know.”

“Right. Sorry.” He looks at her and at Scott, who has the lost puppy-dog look on his face. “What are the chances of your dad defecting with you?”

She looks at him. “What are the chances of you spontaneously turning into a banana?”

“That good, huh? Okay. Back to scenario one. The major issues we’re going to run into here are housing, protection, and money.”

Scott perks up at that. “She can live with me.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your mom is going to go for that. And anyway, you already have our very own fluffy little ball of trust issues to take care of. Of anywhere, my house is probably the safest place for Allison to stay, and my dad will probably go for it. The real question is if the FBI is going to want to put you in Witness Protection.”

Allison shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I mean, from what I understand, your dad might be able to fight you on it if you’re not emancipated, anyway, but—okay, again, back to square one.”

Scott looks at him. “Can’t we just tell the people in the HFU that she’s out, and to lay off?”

Oh, his absurd optimistic best friend. “There’s no way in hell that’s going to work. And I assume any pull you would have with Gerard would be lost the second you try to get out.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay, so again, we’re back to housing, protection, and money.”

“I have about fifteen thousand dollars of my own money that I can get access to.” When they all stare at her—except Lydia, who looks more occupied with her nail polish—she shrugs. “It’s a combination of HFU stuff and stock market stuff. But my dad has access to the account, so he could lock it down.”

They could work with that. “Withdraw it, then. Nine thousand dollars the first time, maybe four thousand the second time. That way you don’t need to close out the account, and presumably they wouldn’t tell your father, and you’ll have access to most of the money. You’ll have it in cash, which isn’t optimal, but it’s a start, and it’s untraceable once you have it.” He scrubs the hand across his face and then says something he really doesn’t want to have to. “You need to be certain about this. No turning back, no changing your mind. If we’re going to help you get out, you need to stay out.”

Scott looks unhappy at that. “We’re going to help her, no matter what.”

“I’m totally up for helping her—for helping you, Allison—but we’re going to paint a hell of a target on our backs this way, and I’m not willing to do that to myself or to my dad or to you if she’s going to run back to her dad when it all inevitably goes to hell.”

Allison scowls at him. “I’m not going to. I want to get out.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay.”

\--

They bring Allison out to the Preserve for target practice that evening so she can prove that she can take care of herself; technically the Preserve belongs to the Hales, but they’re off in New York somewhere and never coming back, so it’s basically free territory.

Isaac, their favorite traumatized scarf-wearing furry friend, joins them and then spends his entire time pacing around half-turned and staring at shadows. Though Stiles figures he can’t really blame him; it’s not really paranoia if there really are gun-wielding terrorists about to be after you. And it’s not really like he has any ground to judge from; he’s sitting in a tree watching everything unfold below him. Because being on the ground in this forest is not the temptation it once was.

So he’s the first one who sees the shape moving in the distance, the shape moving closer and resolving into an actual person. “Scott.”

Scott jerks his head up from where he’s staring adoringly at Allison’s ass, chin perking up so he can sniff the air. And then he flinches. “Your dad.”

From his tone of voice, he’s talking about Allison’s dad, which is bad. Like, amazingly bad. Bad enough that Stiles doesn’t particularly want to come down from the tree, though that’s going to need to happen, because Lydia’s back home and this is not a conversation Allison should be trying to have with just Scott and Isaac to back her up.

So he drops down, bending his knees to lessen the strain on them because ow, and walks up next to Allison and Scott; Allison still has an arrow in her bow, though it’s down, pointed at the ground.

Chris Argent appears from between the trees like a specter or a scary fucking anti-werewolf terrorist, gun loose in his hand, looking pissed. Allison lifts her bow, just a little, not quite threatening but close. And then she smiles. “Hi, dad.”

“I wouldn’t call this Lydia’s house.” He looks at Scott, and Stiles can see his grip tighten on his gun. “And I wouldn’t call that Lydia.”

Scott gives a small wave, which is precisely why Stiles didn’t want to leave Allison down with just him. And Isaac, who looks paralyzed with terror and as such entirely useless. Allison nods. “No, I left Lydia’s to come out here and practice. What are you doing here?”

“Patrols.” He looks at them. “I would recommend not staying out here too much longer. It’s getting darker. And this is not the most prudent of companies to be keeping at the moment, all things considered.”

Allison takes a half-step forward. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“He’s a werewolf, as is his new beta, and we all know the dangers of being alone in a forest with an alpha, don’t we, Mr. McCall. In fact, of everyone you’re here with, the only one you should be with is Mr. Stilinski.”

Which nobody has ever said about him before. Ever. “Gee, thanks.”

Argent takes another step towards them. “And now, especially, you shouldn’t be out here.”

Allison’s jaw sets, and oh fuck. But before he can open his mouth and say something inane but unprovocative, she says, “Why, because I’m supposed to kill him? Well too bad. I’m out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I was wrong, this is going to be four chapters.
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to draw me pictures for the series, I'll write you things. Like, series things. If you want to give prompts.
> 
> Also, ExitUSA is a real organization (and it's really cool) that works to help people leave white supremacist hate groups. I figure they would help with deradicalization of anti-werewolf hate group members, and even if not, it's an example of the same type of thing.


	3. Chapter 3

At that, Stiles pushes to the front. “Scott, get her out of here.” Scott stiffens, and Stiles shakes his head. “We can argue about this later. Get her out of here.”

Allison starts to argue, but Scott picks her up and starts running through the forest; Isaac follows behind him, leaving Stiles alone with Chris Argent. Who stares at him, a considering look on his face. “I meant what I said; if she should be spending time with anyone, it should be you. Rogue-killer. You could join us; you do better work than most of the people who were trained for years.”

Stiles laughs at that, because no fucking way. “That’s funny. She wants out, and you want me in.”

Argent’s eyes narrow. “Allison doesn’t know what she wants.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

And then there’s a whoosh and Isaac’s muttered, “Sorry about this,” before Stiles is slung over someone’s shoulder and hauled out of the woods. Which, motherfucker, they weren’t going to keep doing, because it’s uncomfortable and embarrassing and ridiculous. But Stiles doesn’t fight, because that usually leads to everyone involved getting hurt, and soon (werewolves really do run ridiculously fast) they’re out of the forest, Isaac dropping him on the ground in front of his car.

Stiles sprawls on the ground, glaring up at Isaac, who reaches down at pulls him up. “Sorry, but Scott’s orders.”

Scott shrugs from his spot next to the car, one arm around Allison’s waist. “I wasn’t going to leave you there with just Mr. Aga—Argent.”

Stiles makes a noise from where he’s braced against his Jeep trying not to pass out. Traveling like that is really not optimal, even if it is fast. “First things first,” he says, then stops to take a few deep breaths, “you need to go to an ATM and take out as much money as you can under ten grand. I don’t remember enough of the IRS tracking rules to remember if they’ll track if you take out more than that, or if it’s just—never mind. Get the money you can now. Try for nine thousand.”

Allison nods, looking vaguely apologetic. “Okay. I know this pushes up the timeline, but I just—”

Stiles really doesn’t want to listen to some vague attempt at apologizing, so he says, “It doesn’t matter now; what’s done is done. I’m assuming your father’s going to inform the people at school, and we can work with that. Check whose behavior changes. Check who watches you more closely. In the meantime, you’re not going to be alone, not anymore. I’m going to get in touch with Lydia, make sure she knows what’s going on. We’re going to be _careful_.”

Scott looks at him. “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?”

Right. “You can tell me that, too, but—no heroics. I’m serious.” He scrubs a hand against his mouth, the feeling like his stomach was left behind in the forest finally fading. “I know you’re in charge, and I’m not trying to usurp your position or whatever, but I just—I need you to be safe, and I’ve read about this, and—look, Scott, sometimes you lose your mind around Allison, and we really can’t risk that right now.”

Scott grimaces. “I’m fine.”

“You almost flipped your shit at me when you saw I had driven her to school, and you know that I have absolutely no interest in dating her. No offense, Allison.”

Allison shrugs. “None taken. I don’t want to date you, either.”

“Exactly. And we all know that. But you’re—not too close, obviously, because you’re dating, but too close for doing this well. You’re going to make mistakes. I mean, we’re all going to make mistakes, but you’re—Jesus, I don’t—” He’s not good at stuff like this; it’s why he’s not in charge. Usually. “Can we all just be careful? Please? And leave it at that.”

\--

Going school the next day is like going into a minefield; they all know something is going to blow up, but they don’t know where, and they don’t know who’s going to set it off. And honestly, Stiles is scared, because at least during the terror from the rogue, there hadn’t been a risk of being attacked during the school day, where there are precautions against stuff like that. Here, though, nobody protects against a kid or a couple kids who are part of a radical anti-werewolf hate group.

Go figure.

Now, though, it’s like anyone could be the enemy, and so everyone is. He’s never the only one alone with Allison because she always shares a class with either Lydia or Scott as well, but it feels like there are always eyes on them. On him. Like Chris Argent wants him to be part of the HFU, and now the whole world knows it.

“You have anything?”

Lydia stares at him for a second, then shakes her head. “I think we’re going about this the wrong way.”

Stiles slumps down a little lower in his cafeteria, dragging his hand through his hair and wishing he could be eaten by the floor so he wouldn’t have to watch Scott and Allison make out like the world is about to end. And seriously, this is about them. They should pay attention. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going about this wondering who’s watching, but really, everyone is. Everyone suspects Scott’s a werewolf, Allison is one of the prettiest people in the school, and you look like you haven’t slept in six month. And, well, there’s me.” Because never let it be said that Lydia Martin isn’t humble. “We don’t need to be looking at who’s watching. We need to be looking at timing.”

Oh, fuck, Lydia’s right. “Allison.” She detangles herself just enough from Scott’s face to blink at him. “The people in the school who are with the HFU, when would they have come? Before or after you?”

“Oh.” She pulls away from Scott completely—or more completely; she’s still basically on his lap—and shoves her hair out of her face. “Before. They would have been here as a general training while their parents kept an eye on what was going on and report back to Gerard.”

After would have narrowed it down a lot more, but they can work with that. “Would they have come before or after the trial?”

She flinches, and he would feel worse, but they really do need the answer to this. And they can’t pretend it didn’t happen, because it did, and it matters. “After. Before the trial—before the fire—Beacon Hills was a nothing town for the HFU, not worth going after because the Hales were untouchable. With Alpha Hale—Talia Hale—on the Alpha Council, going after them would be idiotic. The only people we had here were Kate and her crew, and they were here for observation only.”

“Didn’t stop them.”

Her expression hardens. “Kate Argent is a lunatic, and there’s a reason my father and I don’t associate with her anymore.”

He probably shouldn’t keep holding that against her. “Right. Sorry.”

Allison inclines her head slightly. “Even with the Hales gone—especially with the Hales gone—this is a potentially volatile territory.”

No kidding, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he asks, “Would it be after the trial, then, or after the fire?”

She stares at him for a long moment, fingers tapping on the table, then says, “The fire. They would’ve wanted people to keep an eye on what was going on, see if any other pack was going to move in and take the territory.”

“So we need kids who moved in within—would you say six months of the fire? On the tail end, obviously.” Allison nods. “Okay. And is there any chance that they would have, you know, graduated already, or that they would be a lot younger? I mean, it’s not like they knew you would be coming when they sent them.”

“It’s the other way around—they wouldn’t have sent me somewhere where the person—or people—would have been too far in age from me. They should be within a year or maybe two of me, definitely not two years younger.”

“So they’re definitely still in school.”

“Unless they got themselves kicked out, yeah.”

Stiles’s head is starting to pound, and he really just wants to not be in this situation. “And they could be in literally any grade.”

“Yeah.”

He drops his head down on the table, and ow. “Just leave me to drown in my misery. Fuck me. How the hell are we going to find out who moved in that time?”

“Danny.”

Stiles picks his head to look at Lydia, who’s examining her nails. “What?”

She twists her hand so she can examine her nails even closer. “Danny can get into the school computer system. Just get him some porn or something as payment, and he’ll do it.”

“You’re telling me to buy my not-really friend porn as payment to get him to hack into the—hello, strange person standing near our table.”

The girl standing next to Lydia gives him a weird look, then looks at Allison. “Mr. Alberts asked me to get you. Something about the project due next week.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. You are Agazzi, right? He just gave the sort of vague description of ‘brunette with the boyfriend with weird hair’.”

Scott blinks at him as Stiles tries to choke in a laugh, because holy shit. Allison looks offended. “How come he gets more description than I do? You’re not even looking for him.”

The girl shrugs again. “Look, I really don’t care, and I really want to go eat lunch, so can you just…come with me?”

Stiles’s pulse picks up, and shit, that might be a problem. But Lydia just pops up, pulling her designer bag (don’t ask how he knows that, no, he hasn’t spent hours staring at Lydia’s bag) up on one shoulder. “Let’s go, darling. I need to talk to Alberts, anyway.”

Allison sighs, then pecks a kiss on Scott’s lips and stands. “I’ll see you later.”

Once they’re out of sight, Stiles turns to Scott. “Do you know who she is? The girl, I mean. Any chance she could be…you know?”

“I don’t—” Scott looks antsy, like he wants just jump up and rush after Allison. Which would probably be a bad idea, especially if Allison really is just meeting with a teacher. “I’m sure she’s not. I don’t know who she is. But Lydia’s there, so Allison’s going to be fine. Allison _is_ going to be fine. Right?”

Okay, yeah, Stiles really should have known better than to bring that up. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. She’ll be—”

A scream echoes through the room, coming from the open door to the hall, and Stiles and Scott shoot to their feet, Scott rocketing out of the room so fast he’s practically a blur. So, yeah, anyone who didn’t know he’s a werewolf knows now. But Stiles can’t worry about that now; he runs after Scott, feet slipping on the linoleum as he pushes past people crowding in the halls until he sees—

Allison on the ground, straddling the girl from the cafeteria with one hand around the girl’s throat. There’s a knife a few feet from the girl’s hand and a long bleeding gash across Lydia’s forearm. Allison leans forward, and it looks like her fingers tighten around the girl’s throat; Stiles grabs Scott around the waist to keep him from lunging forward and doing something stupid.

“Who is the other one? Who are you here with?”

The girl grins, and her teeth are bloody, which probably has something to do with the split lip. “You think I’m going to tell you, glow-whore?” Scott jolts in Stiles’s grip, and he tightens his hold to keep him from slipping out. Though he knows if Scott really tries, there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. “You’re a fucking traitor, I’m not going to give you anything.”

“Fuck you. Tell me who else is with you.”

“I won’t—”

“ _Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?_ ” Stiles freezes, his grip loosening on Scott, but he’s frozen too as the Principal appears from between the group of students on the other side of the hallway, looking horrified. “Allison Agazzi, get off Ms. Vasquez right now.”

Allison looks up at her, and Stiles knows that set of her shoulders. She isn’t moving unless someone gets out a forklift. “She’s a member of the HFU, and she attacked Lydia with that knife.”

The Principal looks at Lydia, who’s cradling her still-bleeding arm in her other hand, and her jaw drops. “Lydia, are you alright? Someone get the nurse. And what are you talking about, she’s part of the HFU? How do you know this?”

Allison reaches down with the hand not around the girl’s neck to pull down her shirt collar, and Stiles can see the edge of what looks like a tattoo on the girl’s collarbone. “It’s the initiation mark. They get it after they kill a werewolf.”

The girl sneers up at her. “You mean we get it.”

Allison shrugs. “Feel free to search me; I don’t have a mark anywhere.”

“That’s just because our little princess gets extra training so she can take charge and tell us all what to do. Isn’t that right, Allison _Arg_ —”

The Principal takes a step towards them. “Are you admitting to being part of the HFU? To having killed a werewolf?”

“What else am I going to do, fuck them?”

The Principal grimaces, then pulls her phone out and dials, eyes still focused on Allison and the girl. The crowd has grown now, with Lydia and the Principal in the middle of it and Stiles and Scott near the inner edge, and so much for dealing with this quietly, because there’s no way HFU Central or whatever the hell they’re called isn’t going to know about this basically immediately. Which means that they’re going to need to resort to something besides the half a plan they have right now.

“Hello?” They all look at the Principal, who has her phone up to her ear. “Hi, I need the Sheriff to come to Beacon Hills High School. We have a situation here with a couple of students. And I need him to bring a few deputies. Thank you.” And then she hangs up and looks at the two of them. “Lydia, you’re going to the—Helen, there you are.” The nurse walks up over to Lydia and starts leading her away through the crowd. “Ms. Vasquez, we’re taking you to my office until the Sheriff gets here and we can sort this out. Ms. Agazzi, you’re going to the guidance counselor’s office.” She looks around like she just noticed the crowd. “Class is starting in a minute; you’d better get going.”

The crowd starts to disperse, though Scott doesn’t move, which means that Stiles doesn’t, either. And he’s straining to move towards Allison again where she’s still on top of the girl, so Stiles tightens his hold. “You can’t get involved in this.”

Scott honest-to-God growls at him. “I’m not leaving her alone.”

“My dad’s coming. She won’t be alone.”

“Stiles—”

Allison looks up at Scott, finally, and there’s something wild in her eyes. “Scott. I’m fine. Go to class. I’ll talk to you later.”

Scott stays rigid for a second, then slumps in Stiles’s arms, going so limp Stiles almost drops him. “Be careful. Please.”

“I’ll be fine.”

The girl she’s on top of sneers. “Oh, this is sickening.”

Finally, the Principal steps forward. “Ms. Agazzi, you need to let Ms. Vasquez go now. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not something to be settled with fists, so get off of her, and we can talk about this.”

“Or you could give me ten minutes alone in the room with our princess.” The girl’s arm swings up, and Allison blocks it, rolls, kicking up at her, and finally Scott breaks away to pull the girl off of Allison, holding her a few inches off the ground where she kicks and thrashes. But Scott is a hell of a lot stronger than Stiles, and he can hold a teenage girl without too much trouble. “Get the _fuck_ off of me.”

“Stop attacking Allison.”

“Whoa, whoa, okay.” The Principal stands forcibly between the girl and Allison, which is either really brave or really stupid. Or, in the grand tradition of people in Beacon Hills, both. “Mr. McCall, thank you for keeping them off of each other, but please don’t touch other students without permission. And Ms. Vasquez, please, you need to calm down.”

Scott shakes his head, and Stiles sees his arm muscles flex as the girl tries to elbow him in the face. “I’ll let her go when Sheriff Stilinski gets here. No offense, but I don’t really trust you to make sure she stays, and given that she just tried to beat up my girlfriend…” He shrugs, which is way more impressive because he’s still holding her a couple inches off the floor.

Allison scrambles off the floor, wiping a hand across her face, which would be better if she didn’t have blood on her knuckles. And now on her face, too. “I’m fine, Scott. But thanks.” She looks at the Principal. “I’ll go to—you want me in the guidance counselor’s office?”

“Yes, please. Mr. McCall, I’m going to have to insist that you let Ms. Vasquez go.” She isn’t getting any closer, which is probably good; Stiles can’t see Scott’s face, but there’s a chance it’s turned, in which case he’s going to be all red-eyed and glowy. And furry. Which could be awkward.

Scott shakes his head. “Not until Sheriff Stilinski—will you stop trying to bite me? It’s not going to do anyone any good.”

“Fuck you, McCall.”

“Stiles.” Stiles spins to see his dad walking down the hallway flanked by Parrish and Tara, the latter of whom smiles at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He glances at Tara and Parrish, then jerks his head towards Scott and the girl. “Scott, let go.”

Scott turns a full 180 degrees, still carrying her flailing and fighting with him, and then his face settles and he nods, letting the girl go. She drops to the floor and immediately spins to try to elbow him in the face. “Will you _stop it_? What do you think is going to happen?”

Parrish walks over to the girl, grabbing her shoulder, and she tries to elbow him, too; he swings her arm behind her back, pinning it to her, and she swears under her breath. His dad sighs. “Okay, can someone tell me what’s going on?”

“She’s part of the HFU.”

He swings to look at Stiles, and for a second his face is…scared. Which is not how he wants to see his dad look. And then he composes his expression. “Okay. We’re going to have a little talk, and then I’m going to figure out what to do with you.”

The girl struggles against Parrish, but he keeps her pinned. The Principal steps forward, saying, “Allison Agazzi is in the guidance counselor’s office. They two of them were in a fight.”

“Allison—” His dad rubs his hand across his face. “Right. Okay. Tara, you go to the guidance counselor’s office, take her statement, wait for me there. And someone—” He sighs. “Someone get in touch with her father.”

Oh, fuck. Stiles hadn’t thought of that, but oh, fuck, that is not going to go well.

The Principal nods. “I’ll do that. And Mr. McCall, Mr. Stilinski, class has started. I expect you to be there. Now.”

\--

Scott twitches his way through the next class, and Stiles does along with him, because holy fuck this has all gone bad, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. None of them know what to do about it. And Allison—Allison couldn’t go back with her father, because he had a feeling if she walked into her house again, she wasn’t walking out alive.

And Lydia’s injured, and there’s another one still around, and motherfucker this could all fall apart so easily. All these things are so fragile and so unsteady, held together by a piece of string and some wishful thinking, and Isaac still looks like a strong wind will knock him over if it’s too loud, and they’re all just kids, and it’s not fair. None of it’s fair.

But that doesn’t matter now, because things are as they are, and they just need to make sure everyone walks out of this alive.

Except maybe Mr. Argent. Mr. Argent can go fuck himself.

And then there’s a knock on the door, and the Principal pokes her head in. “Mr. Stilinski, Mr. McCall, come with me please.”

Stiles pops out of his chair faster than Scott, which is kind of amazing because, hey, werewolf, and then the two of them are out the door and following her down the hallway. He’s not sure if they’re pulling Isaac out, too, because they only share one class with him, but this is not a good sign.

Especially when the Principal opens the door to a conference room and at the table sits Chris Argent. Scott launches himself at him, and Stiles grabs at him, misses, and ends up stumbling back against the wall as Scott pins Argent to the wall. “You stay away from her.”

His dad jolts away from his position on the wall, snapping, “Scott, stand down.”

Allison steps up next to them, hand touching Scott’s back, and Stiles sees Argent grimace. “It’s fine. Scott, you need to listen.”

“He’s HFU.”

Allison glances back at the Principal, who’s standing in the doorway, then repeats, “You need to listen.”

Argent smiles at her. “Thank you.”

“Not doing it for you.” She slides her hand up Scott’s back. “Hey, come on, you know I’ll kick his ass myself if he tries to hurt anyone. Let him go.”

Scott hesitates, then steps back, letting go of Argent’s shirt. He straightens his shirt, then walks over to the table and sits back down, deliberately putting his back to Scott. Bold move, but dumb. Scott’s jaw clenches, and then he walks around to sit down across from Argent, arms crossed across his chest. Allison sits down next to him, and the Sheriff takes the end, which leaves…next to Argent. Fantastic. Stiles takes the seat, spinning the chair so he can keep him in sight and then crossing his arms across his chest too.

The Principal sits at the other end, nodding at Sheriff, who looks at Argent. Who nods back. Lots of nodding. Yay nodding. “I have information on the other member of the HFU currently in this school.”

What? That’s not—what? “You…are HFU, aren’t you?”

Argent glances at him, then goes back to staring at Allison. “One of them attacked my daughter. And my father-in-law has ideas that I don’t particularly agree with, but I never had the courage to get out before. Not with Allison in it. So I’m here to help. Any way I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left, and then I'll be back to Werewolves 101.


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Allison glances away from the road just long enough to roll her eyes at Stiles. “How many times are you going to ask me that?”

Stiles wishes he had a steering wheel to bash his head against, because he’s in a head-bashing mood. “Until you convince me that this is a good idea. A point that we haven’t really reached yet.”

She looks at him again as she pulls up to a red light, and then, very deliberately, she reaches out and turns on the radio. To top forties which, hey, Stiles doesn’t judge. Also he kind of likes what’s playing. Not that it’s giving him an answer to his question, but yeah, he gets the message.

And it isn’t for another half an hour, when they’re just pulling out towards the edge of a town, that she turns the radio off. “Look, you didn’t need to come out here with me if you didn’t want to.”

Like that was ever going to happen. “Scott would probably castrate me if I let you come here alone, and I really do like my balls where they are. Attached to my body. Where I can use them.”

“Okay, yeah, no, stop talking. But really, I know this isn’t the safest choice in the world—”

“We’re literally walking into the HFU headquarters.”

“—but you can just sit in the car if you want.”

For God’s sake. “I’m not a dog for you to crack the window for, and I’m not letting you go in there alone, which means that if you’re going, I’m going. Now how much further do we have?”

Allison glances around outside like these trees are going to tell her something different from the rest of the trees, then says, “Five minutes, maybe seven, before we hit the gate, and then it’s another couple of minutes to the main compound building.”

There’s a main compound building. That’s fantastic. “And you’re sure I can’t bring in a knife or a baseball bat or something?”

“You’re an outsider; they’ll let you in, but they would never let you in with a weapon. I’m part of it, they’re going to expect me to be armed, but you’re probably going to get searched at the very least.”

Oh joy, being searched. His favorite thing ever. But if it’s that or not get in, he’ll pick getting in every time. Maybe. He’ll have to see.

It’s more like four minutes until they get to the gate, mostly because Allison drives like a lunatic (and if he never gets in a car with her driving again, it will be too soon), and there’s a guy with a handgun strapped to his belt standing next to what looks like a guard tower. Allison rolls to a stop right in front of the gate, then slides her window down and shoots him a winning smile (and if he hadn’t seen her with Scott, he might have even thought that was real). “Hi. I’m here to see Gerard, and I brought a guest with me.”

The guy leans past her to look at him, and he smiles and waves because, hey, why not be friendly. Except the guy obviously, doesn’t agree, because his lips thin and he focuses back on Allison. “ID. Both of you.”

Stiles pulls out his driver’s license and hands it to Allison, who takes hers out too and gives them both over. The guy examines both of them like he thinks the two of them made them out of cardboard and are trying to pass them off as real, then presses his finger to what is presumably a radio in his ear and says, “I have one Allison Agazzi and her guest, uh…Stilinski at the gate. Last name Stilinski, first name unpronounceable.”

There’s a long pause, and then the guy nods and hands the two IDs back. “Okay, you can go in.” He reaches back into the guard tower and presses something, and the gate slides open inwards.

Allison sends him the same smile with a chirped, “Thanks,” and then drives past the fencing and into the compound; the gate swings shut behind them.

“Why do you play the bimbo?”

She glances over at him, then looks back at the road with a determined look on her face. “I’m not playing the bimbo. I’m playing friendly. I have—had to prove I wasn’t Kate, and the easiest way to do that was by not being a total bitch to everyone around me. Because Kate, Kate is—she’ll smile when she’s ripping your throat out, but everyone knows she’s not nice. And I’m—everyone thought I was going to go down the same p/

+ath she did, you know, seducing a werewolf and then killing his pack, that sort of thing. They all think that’s how I’m going to get my initiation done, or at least some of them do, and—whatever. Doesn’t matter now.”

That sounds remarkably like regret. “Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind now. Because I will grab one of your arrows and stab you with it before I let you bring me unarmed into an HFU facility if you’ve changed your mind.”

Allison laughs at that which, okay, not really the right response to that. “You think I want to still be part of a group that thinks I would sleep with my boyfriend to kill his friends? Where my _grandfather_ thinks that, and would be proud of me for it?”

“You have a good point.” And also, wow, he hopes his grandfather never thinks about him having sex, or never thought about him having sex, because they’re both dead. Because okay, no, that would be weird. “What are the chances they’re just going to kill us anyway?”

She pulls into a parking spot in a freakily normal-looking parking lot, then reaches back to grab her bow and quiver. “Let’s go.”

“That was an actual question. Like one that you should answer. Aloud.” But she’s already getting out of the car, so he scrambles out of his side, shutting the door behind him just in time for the beeping of the lock. “Fine. Okay. We’re going in.”

They’re stopped at the door by another guy with a handgun (and why no assault rifles? He’s going to have to ask Allison about that. Later), who leads them inside to what looks like a security room in an airport. Or at least what they look like in movies, because he’s never been in one in real life. Once the door is closed, he turns to Allison. “Weapons?”

She gestures to the bow on her back. “Bow, fifteen arrows. Three knives.”

“No guns?” She shakes her head, and the guy turns his attention to Stiles. “You. Weapons?”

“Only my wit.”

The guy doesn’t even blink. “Arms out.”

Oh, great. “Not going for a cavity search.”

“Arms out, or I’ll do it.”

Yeah, no, that’s not happening. He puts his arms out, and the guy starts patting him down, which is really like the weirdest intentional groping he’s ever had, except maybe that one time with that one girl. Except even the girl didn’t spend that much time fondling his butt. “Trying to find a Kalashnikov in my ass?”

“Russian piece of shit,” the guy mutters, stepping back, and Stiles can’t tell if that’s a reference to the gun or to him.

So he decides to be a smart-ass and say, “I’m Polish, in case you were wondering,” because he can.

“Stiles.”

He looks at Allison, and yeah, right, these are people with guns who actively want to kill his best friend. “Sorry. Shall we go meet good old Grandpa now?”

The guy makes a noise that sounds like something between a sigh and a growl. “Gerard is waiting in the main room.”

Allison nods to him. “Thanks, Casey.”

“Just finish your goddamn training already.”

Allison recoils a little, in that Allison way that she has that nobody would notice other than someone who spent a lot of time watching her reactions. Which he had, because Scott is basically tied for the most important person in her life, and Stiles will not let anyone fuck him over. Hence walking into the HFU headquarters to save his girlfriend.

And then she hardens herself again. “Let’s go.”

\--

The main room is basically a giant open room with a few tables and a bunch of chairs and people strewn everywhere. Gerard Argent, scariest fucking human being in existence, is sitting at the end of the room, and there’s a table in front of him, but that doesn’t really disguise the fact that he looks like he’s on a throne, and everyone in the room is his subject.

His face lights up when he sees Allison. “Allison, what a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you down here until your initiation ceremony.” His eyes flick to Stiles. “And you brought the Rogue Killer with you. Never thought we would get him to join up. Good job.”

Everyone’s eyes are on them, now, and okay, yeah, this is a really bad idea. But it’s too late now; they can’t just say ‘whoops, sorry, didn’t mean to do this’ and walk out. So Stiles plasters a smile on his face and says, “Hi.”

“I know I’m ignoring you, Allison, but I must ask, how did you do it? With no training and no wolfsbane, how did you do it?”

‘With a werewolf’s help’ is probably not the best answer. “If you get enough knives in a werewolf’s heart, it can’t rebuild. It did almost tear my spleen out, which was…unpleasant, but…yeah.”

Gerard smiles, and it would be a pleasant smile if Stiles didn’t know if he was a murderer and a psychopath. “Well, we were all impressed.” He looks at Allison. “Now, I’ve heard that you’ve had some trouble at your school.”

“You mean how I stopped Maria Vasquez from cutting up Lydia Martin? Who is, I might add, as human as it gets. So yes, I did do that, because we don’t attack humans. Or at least I don’t. _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent_ , right? And I don’t think Lydia Martin is hunting us any time soon.”

The smile turns weird, then settles again. “I admire your morals, Allison. Now what are you doing here?”

Stiles sees her fingers twitch, like she wants to grab her bow, but then they still. “I wanted to tell you that I’m out.”

The smile disappears, finally, and now he looks actually terrifying. “Excuse me?”

“I’m out of the HFU. I’m not going to complete my initiation, and I’m not going to take charge of the HFU. And I’m here to tell you that, if you come after me, you will regret it.” She looks around at the people around the room, all of whom are stock still. “All of you.”

“I don’t think so.” And then, like that was some sort of sign, everyone shoots to their feet, guns out and pointed at the two of them; faster than Stiles can see, Allison has her bow out, arrow nocked, pointed directly at Gerard. And Stiles doesn’t know if he could shoot his grandfather (if he was still alive), but Allison hands are still.

And yeah, now Stiles feels very, very unarmed.

But, like he said, he has his wit. So he steps forward, which doesn’t do anything except draw attention to him. “Shooting her—or me, please don’t shoot me—is not a good idea. We have a system in place where if either of us are killed by the HFU, or anything that looks like the HFU—so no suspicious accidents, please—all information about the HFU, including names, addresses, security measures, and every killing the HFU has done will be released to the news and the police, including the FBI and the ATF. And if you’re thinking killing all of our friends and my dad will fix that problem, it won’t.”

Gerard’s expression is hard enough now that Stiles can see how he ended up in charge of the biggest terrorist organization in the United States. “And how do we know you won’t just release it anyway?”

“Because my father has done enough of the killings that it wouldn’t be in my best interest. There’s a reason I don’t go by Argent anymore, _Grandpa_ , and this would get rid of all of that.”

“And you, Mr. Stilinski?”

“I’m not in the habit of hurting my best friend’s girlfriend.”

Allison let’s out a small breath, so quiet that Stiles knows he’s the only one who hears it. “So we’re going to walk out of here, and you’re never going to talk to me again. Any of you. And you will leave Beacon Hills alone, because believe me, we will know.” She glances at Stiles. “You’re going to lead, and I’m going to walk behind you.”

“If they shoot me, I’m going to kill you.”

She snorts. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

Stiles turns and starts walking, keeping his eyes fixed in front of him so he doesn’t have to look at the guns, and Allison is so close he can feel the heat of her at his back. And everybody watches, but nobody stops them, not as he walks through the hallway, not as he gets to the door and Casey levels a gun at them, Allison turning so she can aim at him, and then they’re outside and Allison lowers the bow, and she’s shaking harder than he’s ever seen her shake before.

“I’m driving.”

She doesn’t even look at him, just pulls out the keys and hands them to him, and that is a bad sign, but he can’t deal with it right now because he needs out of his compound. “They’re raise the gate for us; don’t slow down, just keep driving.”

“Okay.” He gets in the car, and she gets in the other side, and she is shaking, shaking, shaking. “Okay.”

And then he drives.

\--

Stiles doesn’t want to stop in the local town because that’s basically going to be HFU central, so he waits until they’re three towns away before parking in a diner’s parking lot and looking at Allison. Who’s staring out the windshield, face blank, her entire body shaking so hard he’s worried she’s going to bite her tongue.

“You okay?”

Allison sucks in a deep breath. “They didn’t kill us.”

Okay, this isn’t going to work. “What we’re going to do is we’re going to go in that diner and gorge ourselves on pancakes, and you’re going to call Scott so he can talk you out of this panic attack, because let me tell you, it’s something he’s really good at.”

She doesn’t even look at him, just keeps staring out the glass at nothing. “We’re not dead. They didn’t kill us. We’re going to live.”

Talking to her doesn’t seem to be working, so he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials Scott’s number. Scott picks up after maybe half a ring. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“We’re fine, but your girlfriend is freaking the fuck out, and I don’t want to bring her into a restaurant until she’s not talking about us dying.”

“Hand your phone over.”

Stiles shoves his phone at Allison, who moves just enough to open her hand and take it, moving it up to her ear like she’s moving through molasses. “Hello?”

Stiles doesn’t really want to listen to her and Scott being lovey-dovey, so he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him, leaning on the hood so he can keep an eye on Allison to make sure she doesn’t have a breakdown.

But instead she starts smiling, her body untensing and her shaking relaxing into trembling, and a few minutes later she hangs up and climbs out of the car, holding her phone out. “Thank you.”

He takes the phone, slipping it into his pocket and hand over her keys. “No problem. Want pancakes?”

She nods. “Yeah, I could go for some pancakes.”

They head inside and end up in the far corner of the diner, which is fine with Stiles because it means he can watch the entrance and everything going on in the diner while having his back to a wall. Because yeah, maybe he’s a little bit paranoid right now, but they did just piss off the HFU.

A few minutes into devouring chocolate chip pancakes that are more chocolate chip than pancake, Allison puts her fork down. Which could be a bad sign. Because basically nothing has been a good sign since she climbed into his goddamn window a few days ago. So he puts his fork down, too.

“We, uh…” She taps her fingers on the table. “So my dad and I have a lot of training, and you guys seem to need help. And I’m going to talk to Scott about this, too, but as you’ve proven, you’re his left hand.”

“Well…”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. What I was _trying_ to say is this: my dad and I can help the pack.”

Stiles takes a second before responding, because he’s not sure the first thought in his head is necessarily the best one. “I’m not sure hunting those who hunt you is really the best choice for our pack.”

“Yeah, well, I talked to my dad about that, and we’re willing to change that. We were thinking, uh, _‘Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes._ ’”

“Let’s pretend I don’t know French, so you can translate it for me.”

Allison laughs. “Right. It means ‘we protect those who cannot protect themselves.’ Not that the pack can’t protect itself, but…you’re kids, and untrained, and…I’ve done some shitty things, Stiles, and I want to make up for it.”

She’s a kid, too, but Stiles isn’t going to point that out, not right now. “Well, you’re pack. We can always use your help, as long as you don’t lose your shit and decide to shoot Scott or whatever.”

“After all this work I just did, no way am I going off on someone now.” But there’s a smile on her face as she goes back to her pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada. It's finished! Now I can go back to Werewolves 101, but this chapter will be referenced later on, so I figured I should post it before I got there.

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you are confused about who's around right now, just ask and I'll try to clear it up. This will probably be 3 chapters long. I was thinking of posting it all at once as one long chapter but figured you'd probably rather I get the beginning out early than that I take a while to post it all at once.


End file.
